Apologize
by meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Written for tumblr prompt: "I was scared and I ran." Red and Liz have that discussion that they never had about the whole fake death thing. Red expresses anger to Liz and Liz expresses remorse to Red. So AU. Lizzington.


Liz knocks on the heavy oak door of Red's latest safe house for the third time.

Nothing. Again.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. She needs to talk to Red. And not about blacklisters or pretense or Tom but about them. As they are. Or as they used to be. Since she came back from Cuba, things between her and Red have been... bad. Tense. Strained. Everyone has commented on it by this point and, while that wouldn't normally bother Liz, she has such an uneasy feeling inside whenever he won't look at her. Because he won't. Not anymore. She knows it's because they haven't discussed her disastrous faked death and would-be vacation in Cuba. But Red never stays in her presence long enough for her to say anything other than "Hello" and "Who's our next blacklister?". And perhaps that's by design but it simply can't continue. Liz can't take it. So she is determined to make things right. And she'll stand here all night if she has to.

She knocks for a fourth time.

All of a sudden, she hears the dead bolt wrench back and the locks turn and the door opens to reveal a carefully emotionless Red.

That's odd. She didn't hear any footsteps before the door opened. It's almost as if he was standing behind the door waiting for her to leave.

Oh.

Yes, they need to talk.

Red is still standing in the doorway, staring blankly at her, apparently refusing to break the silence. All right then.

"Hi," Liz starts, with a confidence she does not feel while Red is looking at her like that. "May I come in? I think we need to talk."

"About what? I told you everything I know about number 102 at the Post Office today." He says frostily.

"No, I know, it's not about number 102." She says. Why is her mouth so dry? "I think we should talk about us, Red. We have some serious issues that we haven't addressed since… since I came back and people are starting to notice. I think we should at least try to work things out."

His expression hardens. Wow, she didn't think that was possible.

"Oh, so _now_ you're open to communication."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She's trying desperately not to get defensive but there's something about this attitude of his that makes her want to raise her hackles and snarl.

"I think you know what that means." He says, coldly. "And now's not a good time."

And to her complete surprise and indignation, he begins to shut the door.

"What? Wait!"

Out of desperation, and because she can't watch his face disappear behind that door, she just can't, she quickly puts her foot out. The door collides painfully with her ankle but she ignores it, determined to make him listen.

"Look, I know you're upset with me but-"

"Oh, do you? Amazing!" He says, scathingly, starting to get angry now instead of just plain cold. Well, at least that's some sort of emotion. She'll take it.

"Hey! I can't make this right if you won't talk to me!"

"Oh, so you think you can still make this right. How charming."

She blinks. What? Is he serious? Every time she hurt him before, she would apologize or hint at remorse or sometimes just smile at him and he would just move on as if nothing had happened. So why is this different? Sure, telling him he is a monster isn't quite the same as faking her death but hurt is hurt, isn't it? So why is he acting this way?

But finally he sighs, rolls his eyes, and let's go of the door to cross his arms, looking for all the world like a petulant little boy who doesn't want to clean his room.

She hates this.

"But I suppose you have a point." he says begrudgingly. "We don't want to make your co-workers uncomfortable."

Her co-workers? Since when has Red cared about anybody at the Post Office besides her? What did she miss while she was in Cuba?

"So, fine. In the interest of easing tensions, I'll listen."

And then he just stands there and stares at her expectantly. She wonders vaguely if her mouth is hanging open. Has he always had these whiplash-inducing mood swings? No, surely not. She would have noticed. But here he is, waiting for her to say something.

"Well?" he demands.

"You want me to start talking? Here?"

"Well, isn't that what you wanted?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation on your doorstep!"

"Well perhaps I don't want to invite you in!"

"Well perhaps you don't but I'm not doing this with a door in between us. Either you come out here or I'm going in there."

They stare each other down for a tense minute, eyes assessing each other, blue piercing green and green glaring at blue.

Finally, without breaking eye contact, Red moves slowly to the side, giving Liz just enough room to squeeze past him and into the house.

But somehow, the move doesn't feel like acquiescence to Liz. It feels more like a warning. These walls around Red are brand new and miles high. How is she supposed to scale them?

Liz stops in the entrance hall, unsure where to go from there, not wanting to anger Red any more than she already has. She wants this conversation to be as civil as possible.

"Turn right. We can talk in the kitchen."

The kitchen. Well then. Civil might be a bit of a stretch.

Liz sighs.

She enters the clean, utilitarian kitchen, running a hand over the marble countertops before turning to lean against the counter and face Red.

Well. She might as well be talking to the marble countertops. They certainly look more inviting than Red does right now.

Liz takes a deep breath. She had an idea of what she was going to say, didn't she? She had a plan in the car on the way over here, didn't she? So where did all her words go? Her mind is blank, so she decides to just take the plunge.

"Okay, look, I know things weren't easy for you when I was gone-"

Red's eyes widen.

"Oh, you do? You know that? How, Lizzie? How could you know how it was for me when you were 'gone', as you so eloquently put it? How could you know, since you were no doubt sunbathing in Cuba waiting for your beloved Tom, reveling in a life without me in it? How could you know? _How could you?_ "

Now why did that last question sound so different from all the others? They were the same words, after all. But there was so much more bitterness and betrayal in those words than all the others. Why was that?

Liz stares at Red, trying desperately to read him as she was once able to, once again stunned by the strength and depth of his animosity towards her.

She had known that Red had hovered over her 'dead' body in the back of the ambulance, so long that Mr. Kaplan and Dembe had had to plead with him to leave. Ressler had told her that. She had known that he disappeared shortly after her 'death', without a word to the team or Dembe. Samar had told her that. She had known that Red wasn't going to come back to continue work on the blacklist after her 'death', Aram had had to convince him. Aram had told her that.

They all had told her these things in the briefest, most non-specific terms, looking at their shoes, quickly making excuses and hurrying off. She had been confused by their behavior at the time but she had been preoccupied with trying to find Agnes, thinking she would deal with it later. Perhaps the reason they hadn't wanted to elaborate on Red's actions after her death was because, could it be because-

"Red, I wasn't enjoying my time away, all right? It wasn't like that and-"

"Oh, really? Well, you could have fooled me, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth. Elizabeth? When was the last time Red had called her Lizzie, anyway? It had been a while, hadn't it? Not since before she left, wasn't it? Did that mean, no it couldn't-

"Red, I was trying to protect Agnes, that's all, I didn't think-"

Oh. Well, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it? She watches as Red's normally warm, green eyes turn hard as flint, his mouth pinching and his jaw clenching.

Oh.

"See, that's the problem, Elizabeth, _you didn't think!_ " He's yelling now, he's never yelled at her before, why- "Or rather, you did, and it was only about yourself! You thought how nice it would be to get away from me, the monster, and go away with your beloved fake husband, not giving one thought to how that would affect me! Well, guess what, it did affect me! Your death? Yes, it affected me, Elizabeth!"

"Red-"

"No!" he roars, slamming his hand on the counter, making the dishes rattle in the cabinet behind her head. She suddenly realizes she is literally backed into a corner in the kitchen of his safe house and there is no one else here.

She has never been scared of Red before. She is now.

"No, you don't get to talk!" he bellows, his voice strangely unsteady. And are his eyes wet? "Not now because what could you possibly say? Because your death? It ruined me! It sucked me into a void and I almost didn't make it out the other side! Your death? It almost killed me!"

The awful silence following his words seems to push on her ears, making them ache. She aches all over. Oh, what has she done? She didn't know it was like this, how could she know? What has she done to Red-

And to her horror, she sees a single tear fall from his shining eyes and down his cheek.

Oh. Oh, she's hurt him. Oh, she's hurt Red so badly. And she had no idea.

Oh, Red.

He swipes at the lone tear and turns away from her. Suddenly she is terrified that he'll leave the room, leave her, and her previously frozen limbs unlock, lurching forward towards him.

"Red…" she whispers, reaching out and tentatively touching his arm.

He jerks away from her touch.

Oh. Oh, no.

"Red, please."

She hears him take a deep, shaky breath. Still facing away from her, he turns his head ever-so-slightly to the side, seemingly indicating that he's listening.

Or maybe not. It could be either. But she decides to assume he's listening. Because he has to. How else can she fix this?

"Red…"

Oh, what can she say? Red's right. What could she possibly say to make this better? She's hurt him so deeply and she only just realized and he knows that and somehow that makes it worse and what can she say?

Oh. Stupid Liz.

Because suddenly it's so simple. What do you say when you've hurt someone? Just two words. Two simple words and why didn't she think of this before, stupid, stupid Liz?

"Red," she whispers, meaning her next words more than she's ever meant anything, "Red, I'm sorry."

Yes. That was what he needed.

She actually sees the tension leave his shoulders and his head falls forward and he lets out a shuttering sigh and she sees more tears fall and they can't have that, no, so she's rushing around to face him and she's putting her arms around him and his head falls to her shoulder and his arms wrap around her waist and he's crying but everything feels better and-

Yes. This was what they needed.

"Red," she murmurs, the words coming so easily now, "Red, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to save my baby. The cabal was beating down the door and Kate offered me a way out and I didn't have time to think, Red. I… I was scared and I ran. And I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

And his tears are drying on her shirt and he turns his head to breath her in and she closes her eyes and-

Yes. This is them.

And she thinks maybe she'll stay a while tonight.


End file.
